


patterns and parts of the whole

by freloux



Series: intarsia [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Breastplay, F/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freloux/pseuds/freloux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'intarsia'!</p>
            </blockquote>





	patterns and parts of the whole

Their encounter doesn't change anything - at least not at first. They stay in the TARDIS together, dancing around each other, same as ever. Go on adventures, fight Daleks, save the world, same old shit.

Then there are moments where the Doctor could swear she's staring at him. He'll look up from the console and she'll be looking at him carefully, as if considering something. When they make awkward eye contact, they both glance away from each other.

At one point, the Doctor walks toward the library from his room and nearly runs into Clara. They stand there in the hallway together, breathing a little hard. He looks down at her, but tries not to notice the way her breasts are rising and falling in that ridiculous top of hers. Jesus Christ, he's not a dirty old man, ok?

He's still trying to reconcile the sexual parts of his previous incarnations with the form he's currently in. Sometimes memories of Clara - the memories his previous body had - will hit him in the middle of the night. The way she whimpers, eyes closed, asking for more. He learns things about her from these memories. It's not just about what she likes, it's also about what she was like. She becomes a fuller, fleshed-out person and he learns to see her differently.

Almost.

He still wants to feel her for himself. His previous body's memories aren't enough. They're good wank material, sure, but he needs the real thing.

But for now, he stores it in the back of his mind. He busies himself in programming the TARDIS, learning what goes where, so that it becomes a part of him. He starts intuiting things about the TARDIS and it feels like the most normal thing in the world. Like he can sense when the TARDIS is about to send them to a part of the infinite universe that needs their help.

He almost wishes that things with Clara were the same way. But she's gotten even more closed off since their encounter, withdrawing, busying herself just like he's been doing.

After one particular adventure, things shift a little. He wouldn't even call it an adventure, more like Clara goddamn it I am fucking trying to save your sorry ass. But that's the nature of the companion, isn't it, even one as impossible and impenetrable (as it were) as Clara. He's screaming at her, the TARDIS is shaking, and the aliens are approaching. They're fucking ugly, too, which is the part of this job that his previous incarnation never warned him about. Didn't leave any helpful memories to say, you know, you're about as likely to throw up as you are to save whatever it is that you're trying to save.

Just as he's desperately grabbing the console of the TARDIS, listening to it beep wildly, trying to get in touch with it and feeling helpless and silly for even attempting - like one of those weirdo hippies he and Clara saw once on their journey through time and space - the beeping stops. Clara's fought them off, screaming like a madwoman. They hiss and withdraw and Clara shuts the door of the TARDIS firmly. She makes sure that there isn't any odd alien goo lingering anywhere, then turns to him.

"You -"

Neither of them know what to say. He's not going to pretend that this isn't working for him right now, her all sweaty, ponytailed hair plastered to her forehead and neck. She's panting. God, he's not going to stare at her tits right now, he's not.

"No, you were good," he says, distantly, turning back to the TARDIS console.

"Come here," she replies. She draws him closer and kisses him gently.

He feels a little like he's both his old self and whoever this new Doctor is at the same time. He learns by feel, falling into the memories that were left for him while also carving new territory.

He wants her, badly, but he remembers from those memories that Clara likes to be played with a little first. So he pulls away from the kiss and whispers, low in her ear, that he's gonna make her beg for it, going to get her so hot and needy that she'll go out of her mind.

Clara's eyes go a little unfocused and she nods blindly. She shrugs off her top, her bra, that impractical skirt that he's been meaning to reprimand her about, and finally her underwear. Clara stands naked in front of him and she, too, seems to understand that this is all part of the same mix of layers of time, past and present, patterns and parts of the whole.

"Touch yourself," he commands, and when her hand travels down to her sweet little cunt, he fights off a laugh. "No, up here."

Her hands reach up to cup her own breasts, pinching and stroking her nipples until they're stiff, sensitive points. She rubs her fingers across them and whimpers. He watches as she continues circling her nipples. Clara gasps, then, and her cunt clenches and grasps at nothing.

"You - you should - " she gasps, backing unsteadily into the TARDIS. "I want - "

So he takes off his own clothes. He's felt more than once that it's just a ridiculous costume, so here he's grateful to be rid of it...especially for such a good reason.

He takes his cock in his left hand and pushes into her still-shuddering pussy. She's wet, sloppy, tight - he has to move slowly at first, but then picks up a harder and rougher pace. He doesn't kiss her. Their faces are inches apart - his forehead leans against hers, and her mouth is open in a silent cry. Both of them are breathing hard. Her legs come to lift and wind around his, while her hands are back on the console to support herself. His hand grabs at her wrist, the other moves in an almost practiced way over her swollen clit.

She rides him, then, moaning in effort as she lifts and lowers herself onto him. Just as she's about to come, she starts whispering his name, his real name, his true name. She unspools the Gallifreyan into his ear and he groans, his cockhead now blurting out cum into her waiting cunt.

After he pulls out of her, they both get dressed, laughing a little in the awkwardness of it, the new buttons and weird zippers that seemed so easy to undo before.

Just because you're journeying through space does not mean certain doom for a lifetime of loneliness. The memories taught him many things, but they taught him that, too.


End file.
